Red and Green
by lucidscreamer
Summary: Peter tore through the last of the hyperactive plant-life and burst into the clearing in time to see the monster grab Ray in shiny talons that might have once been hubcaps.


Disclaimer: _The Real Ghostbusters_ is based on the characters created by Ivan Reitman, Dan Ackroyd, and Harold Ramis.

* * *

Red and Green

by Lucidscreamer

_December 23_...

Peter threw himself flat on the concrete as something huge, metallic-green, and angry soared over him to land in the spot where he'd been standing just seconds before. It swung its massive head from side to side, questing for its prey, and growled like a badly-tuned motor.

In fact, it _was_ a badly-tuned motor, or had been until that morning. According to the panicked woman who'd called Ghostbusters Central at the ungodly hour of six a.m., the thing stalking him had been a perfectly ordinary four-door sedan.

Now it was the Creature from the Chrysler Lagoon, and it was _pissed_. It was also, if Peter had anything to say about it, going down. _Hard_. The damn thing had slimed Egon, taken a swipe at Winston that had shredded the front of his jumpsuit and left him with a row of bleeding gashes across his chest, and tried to turn Peter into incredibly good-looking roadkill. That was more than enough to earn it a one-way, all-expenses-paid ride on the Containment Unit Express. And Peter would be happy to punch its ticket.

"Playtime's over," he grated, hefting his thrower and aiming at the ex-automobile. "Say goodnight, Gracie."

The proton stream hit the thing squarely in what had been its rear fender. Sparks bounced off the green paint like a swarm of fireflies. Unfortunately, the particle beam only made it angrier.

Wheeling around on its rear paws, Frankenstein's LeBaron let loose an ear-shattering roar that had roughly the same effect on Peter as oncoming headlights had on a startled deer. Momentarily frozen to the spot, Peter could only stare as its massive jaws gaped wide, revealing double-rows of six-inch, razor-sharp steel fangs. It raised one massive paw to swat him like a fly-

-and something crashed into him, knocking him flat on his stomach and driving the wind from his lungs. A split-second later, the monster's claws sliced through the air where his head had been. Peter swallowed hard, noting with gratitude that his head was still firmly attached to his neck.

He twisted to look over his shoulder, and past the bulk of his proton pack, at his rescuer. Sprawled across Peter's back, Egon glared down at him. "And you claim _I_ never pay attention on busts."

"I love you too, Egon," Peter drawled, and flashed a wry smile. "Now get off me, will ya? You're ruining the creases in my jumpsuit."

With an audible sigh, Egon scrambled up, then offered his hand. Peter blithely ignored the sigh, let Egon haul him to his feet, and cast a cautious look around. They were in no immediate danger of being smushed like bugs on a windshield, which came as something of a surprise. Deprived of its prey, the gooper had gone looking for an easier meal. Apparently, the client's Pekingese hadn't made for a filling breakfast.

"Where'd Big Ugly go?" Peter tapped his thrower meaningfully in the palm of one hand. "Ol' Betsy and I want a word with him."

"Hmm. A four-letter one, no doubt," Egon mused, alert gaze sweeping the area.

The two Ghostbusters surveyed their immediate surroundings, but there was no sign of the creature. Egon shipped his thrower and retrieved his PKE meter. After fine-tuning the dials, he nodded in the direction of the nearby trees. "I believe it went that way."

A distant roar, followed by the crashing sound of trees being reduced to pulp wood, seemed to verifiy Egon's analysis.

"Great." Peter groaned. "More running around."

Despite his automatic complaint, he was already moving in the indicated direction, Egon keeping stride beside him. "So, how do we trap this thing, Egon? Put that overdeveloped brain to work, will you? I'd like to get this demolition derby over with and go home."

"You have a pressing commitment we're keeping you from, Dr. Venkman?" Egon returned dryly, one eyebrow raised, as they left the driveway and started across the lawn. Frost-covered grass crunched beneath their boots.

Peter slanted a sly look at him. "You know how it is, Dr. Spengler - people to annoy, naps to take."

"Ah, a full schedule, indeed." Egon had his nose firmly in his PKE meter. When the readings shifted, he nudged Peter in the new direction without even looking up. "We must find Winston and Raymond. I'm sure they will not wish to delay you further."

"I'm sure they won't. I promised to let Ray drag me out to do some last-minute shopping."

"Greater love hath no man for his friends than to suffer through last-minute Christmas shopping."

Peter was framing a suitably smart-assed retort when he heard the familiar sound of a proton rifle firing. As one, he and Egon broke into a run.

"Ray, look out!" That was Winston, the worry in his voice coming through loud and clear despite the distance - and the overgrown flora - separating them.

Peter and Egon exchanged concerned glances, and Peter yelled, "Hang on, guys! We're coming!"

Egon beside him, he plunged into the underbrush, fighting his way through the overgrown tangle of evergreen hedge, vines, and saplings. The tangle fought back, gouging his scalp and snagging his jumpsuit with claw-like twigs. Determined to get to his friends, Peter shoved his way deeper into the hedge-gone-horribly-wrong and wished for a nuclear-powered Weed Whacker.

He kept telling the guys they shouldn't accept busts outside the city, but did anyone ever listen to Venkman's Words of Wisdom? _Noooo_. And see where it got them? Playing bumper cars from hell in the wilds of New Jersey. On top of everything else, with his luck these damned bushes were probably chock full of poison ivy.

"Uh, guys? I could really use some-" Mid-yell, Ray's voice went abruptly high-pitched and urgent. "-_help_!"

Peter tore through the last of the hyperactive plant-life and burst into the clearing in time to see the monster grab Ray in shiny talons that might have once been hubcaps. It dangled the Ghostbuster over a gaping maw filled with a lashing purple tongue and sharp silver teeth.

"It looks hungry, guys!" Ray shouted, an edge of panic in his voice, as he struggled in the thing's grip. "And I really don't want to be the blue plate special!"

"Don't worry, Ray," Peter yelled, lunging from cover to focus his aim on the ectoplasmic menace. "If the Mean Green Machine wants a snack, it can head on over to the nearest Texaco station. Ghostbuster tartar is _not_ on today's menu!"

"Careful, Pete," Winston called. "You don't want to hit Ray."

"Or his pack!"

"Jeeze, guys," Peter muttered under his breath as he agilely dodged a swipe from the monster's free paw - one that, had it connected, would have put a serious cramp in his love-life. "Like I've never danced to this particular tune before..."

Hitting Ray was not an option. Hitting Ray's portable nuclear accelerator would be, to quote Peter's favorite physicist, '_bad_.' The resulting smoking crater wouldn't be much fun for any of them, either.

The haunted car-creature picked that moment to turn, presenting him with a perfect target. His proton stream hit the creature square in its broad back, almost simultaneously with Egon's. Winston added his stream to theirs, firing low and raking the creature's stubby legs. The monster howled in protest and swung around to snarl at them. It reached for Winston, found its paws hampered by the Ghostbuster it already held, and flung Ray aside.

"Ray!" Three panicked voices rose in unison.

Ray slammed into the underbrush. It cushioned his fall, but couldn't completely stop it. He crashed through tangled branches and hit the ground hard. Blood streaking his forehead, he lay where he'd fallen, face half-hidden in dead leaves and dry weeds.

Whether Ray was only stunned or was seriously injured, Peter couldn't tell. And with the gooper between them, he couldn't race to his friend's side to find out. That sense of uncertainty and helplessness transmuted to cold anger. No one, and especially no _thing_, was allowed to hurt his friends and get away with it.

Peter reached for the dial on his thrower just as the creature lunged back toward Winston. But Winston was ready for it this time and raked his beam across the thing's ugly, snarling mug. Sparks danced across the twisted metal. One of its headlight eyes blew out in a spectacular fireworks display.

The creature lurched back, roaring in pain. It hesitated, and Peter could practically read the thought in its miniscule mind: _this one bites back_. It doubled back and headed for easier prey - Ray, who still hadn't moved.

_Uh-uh. No friggin' way. Not while Peter Venkman's on the job._ "Full streams, guys. Now!"

No longer constrained by their fear of accidentally hitting Ray, they cranked up the power.

Peter's thrower bucked in his hands as the proton beam shot out and strafed the monster's torso. Egon's and Winston's streams joined his, and Peter watched with satisfaction as the creature writhed in the grip of their combined containment beams. "All right, guys. Let's send this sucker back to automotive hell."

"Eat protons, Ugly!" Winston growled as their streams lashed at the beast.

_That'd teach it to try and snack on one of the Ghostbusters_, Peter thought with grim satisfaction. Unfortunately, while they had it temporarily pinned, that was all they'd accomplished. It was still fighting back, and now it was _seriously_ pissed off.

"This isn't working!" Winston yelled as the thing writhed in the beams, dragging them all with it as it tried again to reach Ray.

Peter slung a desperate look at Egon. "Okay, Spengs, you're on deck. Gimme an option here!"

"Somehow, it must have fused with the body of the car," Egon theorized, teeth clenched as he gripped his thrower and fought the creature's pull on his beam. "It's a corporeal entity rather than an ectoplasmic one. We'll have to use the destabilizer."

He switched off his thrower and turned back toward the distant driveway and Ecto-1. "I'll get the destabilizer. In the meantime, keep the creature busy."

Peter shot a look at Winston and groaned. "_'Keep it busy'?_ I dunno, Winston, why do we always get the easy jobs?"

"Just lucky, I guess."

Between their two throwers at full stream, they managed to harass the monster enough to keep its attention away from their fallen comrade. Ray lay face-down in the dead leaves, his unnatural stillness doubly alarming in someone whose default setting was overdrive.

All Peter could do to force his concern to one side and concentrate on trapping the creature.

The thing reared back, tugging the two Ghostbusters after it as it struggled to throw off the proton beams. Yanked off his feet, Peter lost his grip on his thrower as he slammed face-first into the ground. He tasted blood, dirt, and dead weeds.

With only Winston's beam on it, the monster easily yanked itself free. The ground shook as it lurched across the clearing, its low, hungry growls raising the hair at the back of Peter's neck.

Peter spat out a mouthful of debris and curses. He rolled to his feet, retrieving his thrower along the way. No way was that thing getting Ray.

-o-

Egon had returned and, with all due speed, turned the destabilizer on the car-creature. The others wasted no time in blasting the thing with their proton packs.

The three streams were more than the destabilized creature could withstand. It shrieked and twisted in the beams, but it wasn't going anywhere now, except into the containment unit back at Central, Peter thought with vindictive glee. "Winston, my man - Do it!"

Winston grabbed the trap off his pack. "Trap out!"

He stamped on the activation pedal and they all cut their streams and looked away as the blinding-white energy of the trap fanned upward to ensnare the monster. It fought the suction, then elongated weirdly for a second before being sucked down into the trap. The lights on the trap's side blinked red, indicating a successful capture.

But their moment of victory was spoiled by the sight of Ray, still lying where he'd fallen. The others rushed to his side.

Peter slid to his knees beside Ray, and reached tentatively toward him.

"Easy, Pete," Winston cautioned. "Don't move him."

Peter yanked his hand back. "Right. Is he-?"

"Out cold." Winston had his fingers pressed against the side of Ray's neck, brow furrowed as he concentrated. After one of the longest moments of Peter's life, he added, "Pulse is kind of thready. We need an ambulance."

"I'll go make the call," Egon offered, already getting to his feet. But Peter waved him back.

"I'll do it. You stay with Ray." Peter needed to _do_ _something_, no matter how small. If that meant dialing 911, so be it. Understanding flashed in Egon's eyes; he nodded and sank back down onto the leaves beside Winston and a far-too-still Ray.

Peter ran for the car, an incongruous thought rattling around in his brain. He knew exactly what he wanted for Christmas.

Ray, alive and well.

-o-

_December 25_...

Seated in the hardest chair known to man beside his friend's hospital bed, Peter got his best Christmas present _ever_.

Ray woke up... and smiled at him.

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Okay, so this was intended to be part of a much longer story that I started writing back in the 90s. But I could never get the plot to work, so I decided to tweak this chapter into a sort-of-Christmas fic and post it, as-is. I hope you'll forgive my little indulgence.

PS The LeBaron monster was inspired by one of my old cars. That thing was a menace! ;)


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